


Returning to Your Roots

by Fruit_Punch



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Littlerootshipping, M/M, Masturbation, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruit_Punch/pseuds/Fruit_Punch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When was it that Norman had begun feeling more comfortable in his gym than in his own house? Norman is a married man, but he can't help but feel that his marriage is, well...loveless. He married years ago hoping to rid himself of his lingering feelings, only to meet his former crush and realize that his love for him is stronger than ever. But he also doesn't want to hurt his wife. Is there any way he can manage to make all parties happy? Littlerootshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Returning to Your Roots  
Written by Fruit Punch  
A Pokémon Fanfiction featuring Professor Birch and Norman  
February 2016 – Present

Chapter 01: Familiar Feelings  
Rating: M  
Warnings: NSFW, Masturbation, Scent fetish

When was it that Norman had begun feeling more comfortable in his gym than in his own house? Was it once his son was no longer home, who he was much more attached to than his wife, who was currently living in a state of mutual separation with him where they remained legally married but emotionally and physically unattached? "Staying together for the children", as so many people tended to refer to situations like this, really didn't work as well once your kids left the house, leaving the two people who formerly loved each other feeling empty and alone, even more so when they were actually around one another. Was it once his wife and son relocated to Hoenn two years earlier in order to be reunited with Norman, now that his Pokémon gym in Petalburg City was thriving and he could comfortably support his family, only to see his beautiful wife after so long and feel absolutely nothing inside? Or maybe it had happened before Norman left, and was in fact one of the subconsciously driving reasons to why he excepted the gym leader position at Petalburg's vacant location, far away in another region that he had only been to sparingly over the decades. It had seemed like a risky move at the time, but one that could also pay off tremendously since gym leader positions don't exactly become unoccupied terribly often and not already have one or more successors legally and professionally prepared to take the position ahead of time. And starting off in a new area where he knew almost nobody, while intimidating, meant a clean slate, a new identity and life that he could sculpt to his liking. But maybe he had other underlying reasons for the choice, marital reasons.

Or maybe, most terrifyingly of all, maybe Norman had never actually loved his wife at all. Sure, he had no animosity for the woman, and wished the best for her. She was kind, talented, hardworking, attractive, and incredibly understanding of her eccentric husband's endeavors throughout the years. But there never had seemed to have been…the spark, the magnetism and love in their relationship that other couples always referenced. Norman had met his future wife shortly after college when he was struggling to find steady employment, despite his degree and solid skill set and references. They had become quick friends, and she helped the man get his footings in the world, both socially and in a career and lifestyle-mindset. But was their marriage simply one of convenience? One of two friends, who simply never had a better option waltz into view? All these thoughts and many, many more were sprinting through Norman's head as he sat on the quiet wooden floor of his Petalburg Pokémon Gym this evening, his body hunched over and his arms resting on his knees and his chin planted firmly on his forearm.

Well, it's not like a better option had never presented itself to Norman, romantically speaking. More accurately, his wife was the best candidate that was also single and emotionally and physically invested in Norman at the time of their marriage seventeen years ago, rather than Norman's preferred choice. And while in retrospect Norman knew that it was extremely foolish to be romantically involved with someone while still holding feelings for another, the person Norman pined after the most parted ways with him nearly two decades ago after graduation, and he had hoped it was simply one of those college infatuations led on by constant close quarters, lack of supervision, and nights of debatable choices. Norman had hoped that he would simply grow up, and he would grow out of his foolish college romance and into adulthood. Unfortunately, some things stay with you as you grow, and despite Norman's hopes he had never blossomed into that everlasting fairytale romance with his wife. Sure, he adored his son, and tried to be the best breadwinner and family man that he could be. His memory was filled of holidays, vacations, and general day to day family events that Norman genuinely cherished. He did not necessarily regret marrying his wife, and his son was one of his happiest and proudest achievements of his surprisingly accomplished life. Norman only felt that maybe, now that his son was away and his marriage continuing to be stagnant and comparable to strangers under the same roof, maybe something needed to change.

But Norman was too frightened to do anything about that. Yes, he and his wife had sat down and had abridged and uncomfortable conversations about their dull and unloving marriage, but every time anything resembling a resolution or change had come up, Norman had shirked away from the subject. He didn't dislike his wife, and didn't want to hurt her, so he continued to do nothing, subconsciously knowing that the inaction in itself was also doing irreparable damage. But it was easier to ignore that than actually discuss the unsteady future of their marriage, and over time Norman had found himself spending more and more time at his Pokémon Gym. It was a convenient excuse to stay at his gym, a dangerously easy one. Norman was always what some called an eccentric. He worked tirelessly towards his goals, often in unorthodox means. Pokémon training had always been the man's life, and even in the beginning of his career he spent more time at the gym than away. At the start it was an obvious choice, his wife and son had continued living in Johto, as Norman was unsure how successful his tenure as gym leader would be. In order to send enough money back to Johto for his family to live comfortably and at ease, Norman had only rented out a small building on the outskirts of Petalburg, not too far from the gym. It was small and unassuming, and not very inviting. Norman was also not much of a homemaker without the helping hand of his wife, and left the walls barren, the furniture minimal, and slept on a cheap futon. It was a functional setup, however, as Norman tended to devote all his time and manpower towards the gym and spent minimal time at his home. Doing so he was able to save on electricity, and he accidentally often skipped meals due to overworking himself without rest. Living so cheaply let the vast majority of the money go to his son, and life was good enough. After several years, his gym was flourishing and revenue was through the roof. There was no reason for Norman to continue living so economically, and enough funds had been saved that his family could now move to Johto with him, buying a respectable house in the quaint little town of Littleroot. But when Norman entered his new home, it felt just as small and empty as his barren bachelor pad behind the gym, and no amount of pleasant photos on the wall or sounds of laughter and smells of dinner with his family seemed to lessen that. If anything, it only made Norman feel lonelier because he knew how fortunate he really was, yet that did nothing to aid his heart and that in itself made him feel guilty. And so slowly Norman began to spend more and more time at his gym, until he began spending multiple weeks at a time between short visits home. Yes, the gym was thriving. But his home life was suffering.

Suddenly Norman heard a crash emanate from the adjacent room, followed by frantic shrieking of a familiar Pokémon. The gym leader quickly stood up in the dark room and walked briskly, but not quite urgently, to meet the source of the sound. Walking to the door, his shoeless socked feet skimming the polished wooden floor with only light taps of footsteps. Reaching the door in the unlit room with only the moonlight streaming through the window for light, Norman brushed his hand along the wall, feeling for the door and its handle. Locating and grabbing the doorknob, Norman pulled open the door and bright fluorescent light poured in from the other room, temporarily stinging the man's eyes. Inside the room he found two of his Vigoroth frolicking loudly and rambunctiously. They were harmless, and the sound wasn't from a dispute or accident between them. Simply, the primate Pokémon were so full of energy that they had a habit of unintentionally damaging their surroundings or each other in their play. Norman spied the formerly neatly piled gym supplies now strewn about the floor. Thick rubber mats, weights, large pieces of wood and metal poles, and many miscellaneously packed boxes were now upended and tossed around, their contents littering the floor. One particularly large pile was resting on top of a Slaking, who, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to notice or mind the extra weight. But even though most of the room's residents met with the mess and chaos with either excitement or indifference, in one far corner Norman spotted his Zigzagoon cowering in nervousness. The poor thing never seemed to be fond of its louder and more rambunctious friends, and Norman only hoped that it hadn't gotten hurt by a falling box or something similar. The fit man began jogging into the room and quickly reached the frightened Pokemon, scooping it up in his arms and examining it while cooing softly to calm it down. Lightly caressing its form and probing various limbs, Norman determined the Pokémon was mostly unharmed, with only a small scratch on its front left paw. It would still probably be best to bandage it for the night as a precaution, but for the moment it was fine, and allowed Norman to focus on the bigger problem at hand.

Looking back up from the Zigzagoon now resting safely in his arms, Norman watched his two Vigoroth continue to reack havoc on the room, shrieking loudly.

"Hey!" Norman yelled loudly and firmly. "Stop that right now!"

The two Vigoroth flinched at the call of their trainer, their arms freezing in midair as they held various items and their voices falling silent. It was not an unkind or fearsome yell, but one of a strong disciplinary parent, and the Pokémon instantly knew that they were going to be reprimanded. Their heads quickly turned as their gazes locked onto their master's, the primates' eyes wide and worried. Instantly following Norman's command, their hands promptly released their possessions. The first one's fell to the floor with a loud clattering in the abruptly silent room, while the second one's hands were positioned immediately overhead, and ended up dropping a large box right onto its head. The blow resounded loudly and the Pokémon recoiled as the box rolled off of its white, hairy form, but it continued looking at its master in fear and concern.

Norman chuckled dryly as he shook his head. His Pokémon were not nasty or disobedient, they were simply too energetic and from time to time things like this happened. He had tried to teach them time and time again that there was a certain behavior expected of them, and Norman attempted to allow them to release their excess energy as much as possible with exercise and play, but sometimes this outcome was inevitable. And Norman had to blame himself as well, as he had left them unattended, and arguably hadn't played with them enough today to calm the Pokémon down. Vigoroth merely were incredibly energetic creatures, and Norman knew that and couldn't blame them for being products of their own nature. The fact that they immediately stopped and listened to Norman so instantly and unquestioningly showed that they were good Pokémon. However, he still couldn't have them destroying his gym.

Norman slowly began walking towards his mischievous Pokémon, sighing. One of the two Vigoroth cried out in fear of being reprimanded, but both remained exactly where they stood, looking at each other nervously, and then back at their approaching trainer and father figure. Norman raised his hand to the one who had dropped the box on its head, and it cringed, expecting a strike. But the man simply placed his hand gently on his Pokémon's head, rubbing it comfortingly and examining where the box had hit. It seemed fine at the moment, no immediate redness or swelling. But Norman made a mental note to check it again in the morning just to be sure.

"Are you hurt?" Norman asked gently. The Pokémon opened its eyes and relaxed its body as it looked up at its trainer, realizing that it wasn't being punished. Both Vigoroth calmed down, yet still watched their trainer with complete and undying attention.

"That's good," Norman continued, taking their silence and attention as a response. "I'm sorry that I wasn't around much for you to play with today. I realize that must have made you lonely, and you two were only trying to have fun. But please don't roughhouse so much when I'm not around. I want to be there for you in case you hurt yourselves. I realize it was my fault that I wasn't paying attention to you, though. I'm sorry about that."

Norman smiled and moved over to pet the other Vigoroth with his one free hand, his other still cradling his Zigzagoon. The Vigoroth began nuzzling up against his hand apologetically, and the other moved to examine the Pokémon in Norman's other hand. Norman watched as the Vigoroth that moments ago had been so violent now sniff the smaller Zigzagoon in concern and worry. Seeing the Zigzagoon's scraped paw, the Wild Monkey Pokémon began licking the wound carefully.

Content with his Pokémon, Norman again looked up to examine the destruction of the room. From afar, almost everything seemed to be undamaged, simply thrown around. It would take a bit of time to clean, but as far as he could tell, nothing important would need replacing. That was a relief. Norman had spent the better part of the day sulking, so it really was his own fault that his Pokémon had made the mess. Vigoroth were one of those types of Pokémon that was very high maintenance, and if a trainer didn't understand that and prepare for it then they had no right owning a Pokémon like that. Norman had just been so out of it lately, even at his gym. He really wished there was a way to break the funk he was in. His Pokémon were normally his only respite from the issues that plagued him, he shouldn't be ignoring them. But even they couldn't seem to do too much to help his moods lately. Norman needed a new outlet, but he couldn't figure out what to do.

With a heavy sigh, Norman decided it was time to clean the room and fix the damage caused by his inattention. He could continue to sulk all evening and all night but it wouldn't get the task at hand done any faster. Forward movement was the only way to exist, and as an adult, Norman knew this.

It still didn't make it any easier, though.

* * *

Eventually Norman had taken his Zigzagoon into his office and bandaged its paw after applying some antiseptic. It had stung and the Pokémon had winced, but it was obedient and persevered and didn't recoil its paw. Afterwards Norman had given it some much needed TLC as the Zigzagoon snacked on some berries. Before too long it was asleep, and Norman returned it to its bed in the Pokémon's quarters and went to clean up the mess made by his other Pokémon. Returning to the room, he saw that his two Vigoroth had tried as best as they could to organize the chaotic mess they had made. It was a very haphazardly done cleaning, with things placed incorrectly and piled on top of each other in a vague semblance of their original layout. But it was undoubtedly a very honest and genuine attempt by his Pokémon, and Norman laughed loudly upon seeing it. His Pokémon had long since finished their juvenile decluttering and scurried off to bed before being chastised for staying up late, and Norman was alone in the large room, accompanied only by the stacks of items in the room. Smiling warmly and tiredly, Norman began his thorough cleaning where his Pokémon had left off. It took several hours, but the room eventually returned to its former appearance. Norman was a very thorough man, and cleaning was no exception. After fixing and rearranging everything in the room, Norman took out cleaning supplies and polished the wooden floor. He scrubbed furiously as the lemon scented liquid filled his nostrils, the bright fluorescent lights beginning to bounce brightly off the light brown wooden floor, making the surface gleam brightly. The physical labor helped Norman put his thoughts aside and focus on the manual exertion. He quickly became overheated and discarded his sweatshirt, sweat clinging to his thin black shirt underneath as the man worked.

Well after midnight, Norman finally finished his cleaning and stood up, rubbing his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow and to slick back his wet hair. Looking up at the clock, Norman was surprised at the time that had passed, and quickly gathered up his supplies and his discarded sweatshirt. Putting them away in a neatly stocked cleaning closet, Norman spied a piece of white cloth draped over a chair in the closet. Picking it up, he realized it was a lab coat. It must've been from when Professor Birch had visited him recently. He would have to give it back next time he saw his friend and colleague.

Holding the garment, Norman paused and looked at the item longingly. Slowly he began bringing the coat towards his face. He hesitantly looked around, despite being the only one in the room, before pressing it to his face and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Birch. It smelled of soft laundry detergent, as well as the faint spice of the cologne Birch used. Norman inhaled again, this time even deeper, searching for another scent. Finding it, his brow furrowed in pleasure. It was the smell of Birch's body, the light musk of his muscular frame, which was covered in a delightfully squishy later of fat and hair. Birch was stronger than Norman, but nowhere near as fit when it came to cardio or stamina, and due to his heavier body weight and lab coat, the man perspired more than Norman. While he did bathe and take care of himself, if you got close enough and inhaled strongly enough, you would manage to catch a whiff of the manly scent of Birch beneath the soap and deodorant and cologne. Birch always washed his clothes, but sometimes got lazy. His lab coat, Birch seemed to reason, didn't catch as much sweat as the clothing underneath due to it not having direct contact with most of his body, and as a result Birch usually wore the same lab coat for multiple days. While that made sense in theory, it was not entirely true, as Norman noticed as he continued to breathe against the fabric. Not that Norman minded. As a matter of fact, Norman adored the smell. And it wasn't like you would be able to notice the smell simply by being around Professor Birch. It was just faint enough that it went unnoticed unless you pressed your face against it and were intentionally looking for it. Like Norman was now. It was his secret, the smell nobody but Norman knew about. It was his and his alone to enjoy, and Norman was about to enjoy it to its full extent.

Closing the closet door, Norman walked over to the wall and sat down on a nearby gym mat, his back resting against the wall. He brought Birch's coat back to his face and again huffed hard, savoring the tang of the musk in his nose and throat. As he held the coat to his face with one hand, his other quickly dived beneath his waistband, roughly grabbing his quickly hardening penis and pulling on it. His hips bucked into his hand as it moved up and down along the shaft. Moving the fabric against his face, Norman rearranged it so his nose sat against the armpit of the lab coat, where the scent of Birch was the strongest, and put part of it in his mouth, sucking on the used clothing while continuing to pant into the fabric. Professor Birch had only visited yesterday, so the scent was still fresh, and as Norman sucked on the cloth his saliva began tasting salty and sour like the armpit of the lab coat. Savoring the flavor, Norman let it sit in his mouth before swallowing it. Beginning to grope at his dick more violently, he paused to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants and underwear down to his knees. Norman shivered as his bare bottom hit the cool gym floor, which contrasted his increasing body temperature. His dick free, Norman masturbated more forcefully than before, gripping the coattails of the fabric around his penis while he switched armpits to utilize the other one. It was very rough rubbing against his dick, but precum slicked his manhood and lessened the coarseness of the fabric. But Norman liked it rough anyway, so the material didn't bother him. If anything, he relished it, it reminded him he was there, he was alive, and that these feelings he was having at this moment were real. The pure animalistic grunts and thrusts, the less composed side of him that he wouldn't dare show most people, Norman focused on that part of him as his hips bucked and his head was filled with the smell of Birch.

Birch, his close friend. They had met in college and instantly become close. Very close. Upon graduation, they had parted ways, but Norman had never lost the feelings he had for him. But even though they had infrequent contact, Norman assumed they would drift apart and needed someone to help him in life, so he married his wife. But no matter how hard he tried, she was always second best in his heart for Birch. Professor Birch. Norman had found Birch when he had moved to Hoenn five years earlier to begin his career as a gym leader in Petalburg City. The two friends hadn't talked in a while, but Norman had thought he remembered hearing that Birch had gotten married. However what he found was Birch living in Littleroot, mere miles from Petalburg, having become one of the most renowned Pokémon professors in the region. He lived alone with his daughter, who was roughly the same age as Norman's son. Although he wasn't quite as fit as he was in college, Birch was still incredibly attractive, even more so now that he was a rugged man in his late thirties, stubble still covering his sincere wide grin, and his now plumper body covered in delicious thick brown hair which could be seen sticking out from the collar of his t-shirt, as well as on his exposed forearms and on his legs that poked out from his shorts. His frame was always wide due to his muscles, which were still thick underneath his newer layer of fat, with his broad shoulders now complimenting his thicker gut. Norman had run up and hugged the man, and it felt so good being held in those strong arms, pressed up against the soft squish of his stomach. Seeing Birch in person after all of those years flooded Norman with all the feelings he had never quite been able to forget while masquerading as a normal heterosexual member of society. And over the years they had continued to reconnect and rekindle their friendship, which only solidified Norman's feelings more. He loved Birch, and was also incredibly attracted to him.

Norman closed his eyes and thought of Birch's strong, calloused hands, which were bigger than his and had such a firm, yet gentle grip. He imagined those hands holding him tightly, and gliding up and down his thinner frame. He saw his friend's face as he leaned over Norman, his mouth close, his warm breath hitting Norman against the face as Birch's wide, powerful legs straddled the smaller man's legs. His stomach laid heavily on Norman's torso, the weight pressing down reassuringly and lovingly. God, Norman wanted to be held down by Birch, be kept down and stay there forever, breathing in the smell of the man he loved and nothing else. Norman wanted to kiss those smiling lips of his, to connect their mouths together and maybe be able to find inside there what it is that lets Birch smile so genuinely and constantly and take some for himself.

Norman's brow furrowed as he got closer to climax, his hand pumping vigorously, moving his whole pelvis into it. His heavy balls slapped against the ground as he thrust, his asshole clenching and unclenching as he readied himself for orgasm. God, Norman wanted Birch so bad. He wanted the real thing, not this fantasy in his head. But for now he made do with the musky lab coat in his hand, inhaling hard enough to make noise almost akin to wheezing. He wanted all of Birch, his heavy stomach and his big hands, his large feet and his thick dick. Norman had seen it a few times in college, and he remembered it now, imagining it as hard as he was now. Seeing white, Norman took one last strong whiff and bit down on the fabric in his mouth as seed spilled out into the cloth he pressed against his dick. His hand continued pumping as he orgasmed, and the motion continued for a moment even afterwards, milking every bit of semen he had and bathing in the afterglow. Norman's entire body tensed as he released, and then he slumped over in fatigue after, panting heavily into the armpit of the coat that still rested against his face, savoring a few last parting breaths.

Norman stayed there on the floor for a while, his body resting as his mind lingered in thoughts of Birch. Birch, his best friend. His coworker, as Birch's research also helped assist the Hoenn Pokémon League at times. His confidant, to whom Norman could be himself and speak his heart. Mostly. And also his crush for the better part of twenty years. With his kind, deep voice that was always there to reassure Norman and support him, and made Norman feel whole. With the large way he held himself, his shoulders back and his stomach out, his feet pointed outward and knees slightly buckled. He was so cute as he would ramble on about things he found interesting, and then got nervous as he worried he was boring Norman. With his oblivious nature and big heart that helped everyone and everything he passed, even if they didn't want the help. Birch would get so confused and still have such a look of determination and conviction as Norman would talk about his issues, Norman couldn't help but smile. He loved Birch. He loved him so much, and he always had, no matter how long he tried to fight it. He wished his wife could've filled that hole that Birch left years ago, but she never was able to. That was no fault of her own, the woman was an incredible one, and Norman loved her too. Just…not the way he loved Birch. Not the way that society told Norman he was supposed to love her. Norman knew he couldn't keep doing this, this running and hiding from her, sulking in his gym and avoiding the woman who only wanted the best for him. More importantly, Norman knew he couldn't keep pretending to love her while his mind was so preoccupied with someone else. It wasn't right for him to do so, she deserved better than that.

Examining the aftermath of his orgasm, Norman wiped his dick off on the coat, removing the remaining semen that hadn't stuck to Birch's lab coat. Norman would have to wash this before returning it to Professor Birch now. Luckily he had a washing machine in the small house behind the gym. Norman got excited thinking of having an excuse to see Birch again. Sure, they could talk anytime, they were friends. But Birch had been so busy lately. Maybe he could even talk to Birch about the situation with his wife. Well…if he left out a few parts, maybe. Mostly ignoring the activities Norman had with his lab coat.

Blushing, Norman looked at the impressively large stain he made on the garment. Pausing, he debated taking his time and making another similar stain before washing it, while the clothes still smelled like his friend.

What did he have to lose? That he still had to give, that is.

End of Chapter 01: Familiar Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Time for another story! I love juggling multiple works, it lets me choose whatever I'm in the mood for and focus on that. That being said, I usually tend to pick favorites so...we'll see.
> 
> I'm actually thoroughly surprised that I can't find a single Littlerootshipping title anywhere else. Is...is it really that uncommon? Am I using the wrong ship tag? Norman/Professor Birch IS called that, right? Oh well, I guess I'll be the one to start the trend! I had to type in and create that tag rather than find it in the drop down, that's both exciting and depressing.
> 
> I actually don't personally care for masturbation stories, so I'm not sure how I did here. I do love me some scent fetish though. Hope that didn't creep people out. And if it did, well I'm sorry but hey, that's why I archive the tags for each chapter at the beginning.
> 
> It's moderately frustrating trying to write about a character who doesn't have a canon first name. Both Birch and Norman's wife don't have canon names. While I'm fine with not naming the wife based off of the way I'm taking this story, I would like to find a name for Birch. I have a very tentative one, but I'm open to suggestions!


	2. Empty Nest Syndrome

Returning to Your Roots  
Written by Fruit Punch  
A Pokémon Fanfiction featuring Professor Birch and Norman  
February 2016 – Present

Chapter 02: Empty Nest Syndrome  
Rating: T  
Warnings: None

“But Dad!”  
“No, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. You’re not ready to challenge me yet.”  
“How would you even know? You won’t fight me to see! I finally beat Roxanne and got Rustboro’s gym badge.”  
“And that’s fantastic, as your father I am very proud of you. However, Roxanne is almost as wet behind the ears as you. She may be a gym leader, but she only graduated from the Trainer’s School a year ago. While defeating her is definitely a big accomplishment and a stepping stone towards becoming a strong trainer, it is only the beginning.”  
“Dad, come on.”  
“You remember our agreement, get four gym badges and I’ll fight you. And not before then.”  
Brendan grumbled and protested in irritation as he paced throughout the kitchen as he argued with his stubborn father, who was currently keeping his back towards his only child as he washed the dishes from their morning breakfast. It was a quiet sunny morning in their cozy Littleroot home, and Brendan and Norman were the only two residents inside. And as usual, Brendan was frantically disagreeing with his steadfast and obstinate father. It wasn’t that the teen didn’t like his father, it was just that Norman was so damn stubborn. Brendan was trying his hardest to succeed in becoming a powerful Pokémon trainer, ever since he had obtained his Mudkip from their family friend Professor Birch one and a half months earlier. His father Norman was a good father who was supportive and kind, but his one major parenting flaw was that he sometimes had a hard time letting go and admitting that Brendan could do things on his own. Sometimes Brendan wondered if his dad realized that he already celebrated his fifteenth birthday a few months ago. Yes, he was still a kid, but he was out on his own working on becoming a Pokémon trainer, and damn it he was succeeding so far. Norman had no problem congratulating Brendan and being proud, but the man seemed afraid to stop pulling the punches and removing the training wheels to let Brendan take the plunge into it all. Which wasn’t entirely uncommon with parents, but the situation became incredibly annoying when your father was a registered Pokémon gym leader. It wasn’t fair, Brendan was a trainer like any other challenger that came through the door at the Normal-type Pokémon Gym in Petalburg. A gym leader isn’t supposed to refuse challengers that wish to test them, so it’s incredulous and aggravating that as Brendan’s father, Norman denied Brendan the ability to fight him, claiming Brendan wasn’t ready. Yes, Brendan knew his father was strong, most of Brendan’s Pokémon training skills were taught to the boy by his talented father. But how was Brendan supposed to learn more if his father continued to treat him like a child? This was not the first time that this discussion had surfaced, however. And Brendan was fully aware that he had seemingly hit a wall and was unable to gain any ground. Giving up for the time being, he cleared and cleaned the dining room table with a frustrated scowl.  
Scrubbing the food residue off of a plate, Norman eyed his pouting son out of his peripheral vision. Back when Brendan had first received his first Pokémon, Norman was overjoyed, if not hesitant. Brendan had always been an incredibly fast child, both in learning and in his desire to improve. Sometimes this created a recipe for success, and other times it led to his boy being overly headstrong and failing, when simply taking his time would have aided his plight. Hard work was not where his son was lacking, it was patience. It had only taken Brendan two days after receiving his Mudkip and Pokémon Trainer’s License paperwork before he had bolted to Norman’s gym in Petalburg City and attempted to challenge the man. Of course, Norman had responded with a resounding no. The last thing Norman wanted to do was dash his son’s hopes by utterly destroying the boy in battle. But at the same time, if Brendan wanted on official Hoenn Pokémon League gym match, Norman couldn’t simply let the boy win. Jovial battles in the backyard were one thing, but when it came to gym badges and Pokémon League certification, Norman couldn’t sully his gym or his son with a halfhearted fight. But, not wanting to seem unreasonable, Norman made a promise with his son that day to accept a challenge once Brendan was sufficiently strong enough. The father and son had agreed on the measurable goal of four gym badges. Once Brendan had defeated half of the Hoenn Pokémon League gyms in official League sanctioned matches, Norman would fight him in a real battle. Until then, Brendan was always welcome to stop back home and train with Norman, but he would not allow an official licensed match until then. This seemed to pacify his son at the time, but as Norman feared, soon afterwards Brendan was getting antsy. It was taking longer than the boy had anticipated, and the wait was driving the child mad. It was likely that Brendan was eager to prove himself to his father, whom Brendan had always seemed to look up towards. But what Brendan ignored was that Norman was proud of his son, incredibly proud. In little more than a month, Brendan had bonded with his Pokémon and strengthened himself to the point of being able to defeat Roxanne of the Rustboro Rock-type gym. He also had begun slowly journeying away from home, though so far he hadn’t moved past Rustboro. Sometimes he came home to rest for a few days, and always stayed in relative contact with his parents while away. Norman’s little boy was growing up, and he knew this. While it was scary, it was also something to be celebrated. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t still rules and procedures. There was simply an order to things, and Brendan was not ready to challenge Norman yet.  
“How has May been doing lately?” Norman asked his son, attempting to divert the subject away from their unending argument.  
“Huh?” Brendan stopped, caught off guard before mumbling a response. “She’s fine, I guess. Why? What does she have to do with this?”  
“I was just curious,” Norman answered, shrugging as he rinsed the last of the cutlery. The water splashed off the several spoons and forks in his hand as they rubbed up against each other noisily. “You and her are still moving along at a similar pace, right?”  
“I mean, kinda, yeah.” Brendan meandered over into the living room that was connected to the dining room they had been residing in, flopping onto the couch with a thud. Lazily staring at the blank television, he groped around for the remote.  
“That’s good.” Norman said simply, grabbing a towel to dry his hands. He glanced over at his son sprawled out on the leather sofa in tired disappointment as the boy turned the television on and reverted to typical teenage one word answers. Norman had succeeded in frustrating the boy to the point of near silence, and there was no point in attempting to further the conversation. Sighing, Norman looked out his window at the sunny morning in the quiet town and gazed at the Birch residence that sat beside their own home. Surely Birch must have better luck with his daughter. May always seemed so energetic and talkative, and whenever she saw Norman she was more than capable of holding an amicable conversation. Norman was glad that she and Brendan seemed to be such close friends and could look after one another while on their journeys. Although she had received her first Pokémon and her trainer’s license an entire year and a half before Brendan, she originally had been content only traversing the nearby towns and assisting with her father’s research. Professor Birch doted on his only daughter, and the two were very close. When Brendan was given his first Pokémon by her father, May took it upon herself to help her childhood friend begin his own journey. Originally it had seemed like she was just showing him the beginning steps, but soon enough she had asked Birch if she could also set off on her own journey. Her father seemed saddened to see her leave, as she was a phenomenal assistant for his studies, but Birch wholeheartedly supported her decisions, and Brendan and May ended up leaving together on the same day.  
Looking over at the neighboring house and adjacent laboratory, Norman wondered if that meant that May was home visiting as well. The duo traveled at a similar pace and kept in contact, but they didn’t exactly coordinate plans. They each had their own goals and challenged each other to keep pushing, and as such often met up. But that wasn’t an ironclad rule. Still, Norman decided that he would make sure to stop by Professor Birch’s lab to ask him about May, as well as to return the lab coat of his that Norman had found in his gym two days prior.  
Norman’s heart began racing in embarrassment as he remembered what he had done with the used lab coat when he had found it. Grunting, he grabbed a glass from the pantry and poured cold water into it, gulping it down quickly to calm down. Since that session with the garment (and the second session that followed it, and the eventual third one after that) Norman had washed it thoroughly in the machine in his gym, and all evidence seemed to have been erased. After its cleaning, Norman had spent a while examining and sniffing the coat to be certain. The manly scent of Birch, as well as the semen stains, had been removed. Thank god for heavy duty laundry detergent and a built in extra wash cycle.  
Clearing his throat in an attempt to forget his current train of thought, Norman called out to his son, who was zoning out to some mindless talk show that the boy most likely was completely uninterested in. “Are you going to be home tonight? Your mother had asked me how many she needed to make dinner for.”  
“Probably not,” Brendan responded. “I’m meeting up with May this afternoon and then we’re thinking of heading back out. Sorry.”  
“Oh, alright.” That meant Norman and his wife would be eating alone. Norman was disappointed, as he liked having Brendan around to lighten the often stiff mood of the house that had befallen over them lately. Though as Norman had just demonstrated to himself, sometimes he ended up even alienating his son. This only fueled Norman’s fears that something was inherently wrong with himself, but he tried to ignore the thought. Well, at the very least, it meant that he had to see Birch earlier, as to be home in time for dinner so his wife wouldn’t be alone. He tried to focus on that, the excitement of spending time with his best friend.  
Because, after all, he had to find something to be positive about.

* * *

The sun was a little higher in the sky when Professor Birch walked out into his yard on the pleasantly warm late-spring morning. Closing his front door, Birch began walking through the grass, his heavy, wide steps accompanied by the thick flopping sound of his leather sandals against his feet with every raising of his foot, and followed by the sensation of the grass tickling his exposed toes when his feet again met the ground. The grass was long, and needed to be cut soon, Birch thought to himself. Strolling up to a door on a small shed attached to his home, Birch opened it and reached inside, his arm reappearing out of it with the large coils of a garden hose wrapped around his muscled hairy forearm. He carried the green piping over to a nearby nozzle on the building and walked to his flowerbed, tilting his head disapprovingly at the sight of it. Despite the grass growing well, his flowers weren’t growing as well as they had in past years. Sure, the rain had been slightly more sparse than normal this season, but Birch had been making sure to water them regularly, and at times when the sun was not too high or strong overhead and would burn the wet leaves. The Pokémon professor had no need for the decorative plants, and while he wasn’t bad with plants, he also didn’t quite have a green thumb. But he liked the way flowers looked in full bloom in spring and summer, so every year he planted them in the small garden lining his house, choosing mostly hardier plants that weren’t too demanding in an effort to keep them alive. His wife had always been much better tending to them than he was, and was the one who originally instilled the desire to keep a flowerbed in Birch. But she had died almost a decade prior, and Birch had been growing them himself ever since. His daughter May loved the plants, and usually helped him with the task of tending to them, as she helped with everything else in the house since there was no other feminine presence available. Birch was always so thankful to have her, he loved his daughter so much. But he couldn’t keep her sheltered and assisting his day to day life forever, so when she asked to be allowed to start journeying on her own, Birch was saddened, but also happy to see her finally decide to do something she wanted to do, rather than something she felt she had to do while she lived with her single and lonely father, who tried his hardest to be self-sufficient but still hadn’t managed to quite grasp the concept fully. Not that May had ever complained or given any indication of dissatisfaction, but still, Birch worried that he was keeping his daughter from her full potential as long as she stayed with him. So this spring was the beginning of a lot of firsts. It was the first season in years where he was in his laboratory alone, though May still visited as often as she could and would give him samples of specimens she found in the field. It was also the first season that he had to begin only cooking for one, rather than two. May and Birch shared the duty of cooking when she lived at home, so it wasn’t that Birch was unable to make his own dinner. But he was used to cooking for two, and it was a hard habit to break. Oftentimes he still would make portions large enough to feed the both of them, and it tended to end with Birch eating much more than he planned on. Looking down, he put his hand on his stomach, feeling the fat squish underneath the fabric of his shirt. He’d better learn better portion control, unless he wanted to gain even more weight. And, of course, this was also the first spring in years that he was back to tending to the garden alone. Maybe that was why the flowerbed was suffering somewhat. Birch sighed and shook his head as he pressed the trigger on the head of the garden hose, beginning to lightly spray the flowers with a gentle stream of water. As a parent, he was supposed to be the one teaching his daughter how to function on her own without his assistance. But May had always been such a loving and helpful child, that Birch had grown very dependent on her aid. Here he was, her father and yet the one who needed more help learning how to live alone.  
Professor Birch looked around at his small little town, still quiet as a small number of residents each lived out their own Saturday morning in the unassuming town of Littleroot. Birch had actually grown up in Oldale town, which resided only a few miles north of Littleroot. As such, he was very familiar with the pleasantly sleepy atmosphere of the town. He had moved away to Johto for college, but eventually graduated and returned home around two decades ago, taking up residence as one of the region’s top Pokémon professors. Back in Hoenn he found his calling, and eventually his wife. They had a beautiful daughter, and his job flourished. Though she had passed away, Birch had long since finished mourning. But sometimes, on days like today, he couldn’t help but feel a little lonely, as if many of the people he cared about were leaving him.  
“Hey, Birch!” a friendly voice called out. The professor looked up to see his good friend Norman waving over from his neighboring yard. The heavyset man’s mood instantly perked up upon seeing the Petalburg gym leader.  
“Good morning, Norman!” Birch smiled and responded. “What are you doing home? I haven’t seen you around here too much lately!”  
Professor Birch watched as Norman left his own yard and trotted over to Birch, a small tote bag slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, sorry about that.” The skinnier man answered as he finished moving towards his friend. “I’ve been busy.”  
Greeting Norman, Birch shut off his hose and began coiling it over his arm. Birch was so happy to see him. They had been such close friends in college, but had lost contact after graduation due to the demands of their careers and the distance. Birch had never expected to see his friend again, until the day he went to go meet the new Petalburg gym leader and was astonished to see Norman unpacking boxes in the wooden building, a little more aged and angular, but still undoubtedly his old friend. The two had reconnected, and two years after that Norman had mentioned that he wanted his wife and child, whom Birch knew of, but never met, to finally move to Hoenn with him. It was Birch and Norman’s collective idea to situate the family in Littleroot, since Birch’s old neighbors had moved out several months ago and the house was currently for sale. It felt like they were finally returning to old times, but for quite a while, Birch felt like Norman was never around anymore.  
“You’re always busy” Birch retorted jokingly. Norman had always been the type to lose himself in his work, and Birch knew this well. His friend had been like that ever since they met in college, staying up all night working or disappearing for days to follow up something that might help his research. Because of that, Birch never took offense to Norman’s frequent absence, but he still was always elated to spend time with the gym leader.  
“Yeah, I know” Norman sighed, his mind beginning to slip away into thought of the workload for the week. He still needed to file his monthly report to the Hoenn Pokémon League, and a small portion of one of the outer walls on the western facing side of the gym needed some minor repairs from weather damage. Next month was also the biannual review of his gym trainers, which involved a mock test battle and renewing of certification, as well as individual one-on-one discussions about pay, personal growth, and the like. Norman kept turning over his extensive to-do list in his head until he realized he was still in the middle of a conversation, one with his best friend, no less. Snapping back to reality, Norman mentally chastised himself for his wandering thoughts. It was a bad habit of his that he could never quite manage to break.  
“Is it alright that you’re away from the gym? Sometimes it seems to take an entire mob to successfully drag you away.” Birch asked, watching his friend mentally rejoin the conversation with a knowing smile. He was sure that Norman’s mind was going at a mile a minute and in ten different directions, the man was always stretching himself a little too thin, but never enough to cause serious problems. It only made Professor Birch more grateful when Norman attempted to set aside time for their friendship.  
“It’s fine,” Norman said, waving the thought away. “Lori and Berke are there today, they’ll call me if something comes up.”  
“It must be nice living within walking distance, so your gym trainers can just watch the gym for you once in a while.” Birch raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is Brendan visiting today?” Lately, Norman hadn’t been home without some reason. And besides that, Birch knew how much Norman cared about his son, and how frustrated he was that they hadn’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately.  
“Uh, yes actually.” Norman replied, surprised in his friend’s accuracy. “How did you know?”  
“May was here yesterday,” the professor explained to Norman as he began walking his hose back into the shed, gesturing with his head for Norman to follow. “She said Brendan was in the area, and that he might stop by to have me look at his Pokédex.”  
“He didn’t say a word about that to me this morning.” But then again, Brendan didn’t say much of anything at all to him, Norman thought. At least not after he shut down all conversation after the argument. That wasn’t unusual, but it still made Norman unhappy.  
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Birch said, attempting to console his friend. “He’s at the age where he’s not overly talkative to parents, isn’t he? Those rebellious teenage years.”  
“Yeah…” Norman sighed. “But, at least your daughter communicates with you more than he does with me.”  
“May’s always been like that.” Birch shut the shed door and turned back to face Norman, who had followed him while they were conversing. “I guess she knows that her father needs a lot more attention and care, or else he won’t be able to function!” Birch laughed and rubbed his head sheepishly.  
Norman frowned. Maybe he needed some extra attention like that as well. But still, Norman knew himself well enough to know that if that help was offered, Norman would be uncomfortable and unable to process what to do. The biggest problem in Norman’s life was his own stubbornness and obsession with perfection. Just then, Norman heard the beep of his Pokénav in his pocket, accompanied by the vibration of a caller. He looked up at his friend and excused himself, answering his phone.  
“This is Norman,” he said quickly. Birch watched as Norman had a short conversation with the person on the other line and plans for the afternoon were made. Norman answered the person on the other end of the call politely, but firmly, quickly replying to everything with a tone of stern authority. “Yes, yes. Tell them I will be there as soon as possible. Serve them tea if they ask, there should be a good number of different types in the kitchen cabinet after the order we put in last month. No, the top right one. Yes, above the sink. Thank you, Berke.” The call ended hastily, and Norman flipped the phone shut with a look of mild irritation, his frustration not directed at the caller, but at the situation seeming to call him away.  
“Is that work?” Birch asked.  
“Yeah, that was Berke.” Norman answered, referring to one of his longest tenured gym trainers and one of the two young adults that helped run the gym when Norman was away, however rare that tended to be. “He says I have a challenger.”  
“Go on then, we can talk when you’re done. That is, if you’re available.” Birch looked at his friend, who already seemed to be switching into work mode, internally going over all the necessities for the battle, if he needed to do anything else while he stopped at work, as well as most likely creating a rough time table for the afternoon. Norman always liked to head into everything he did with some type of plan, and became anxious when he was unable to do so.  
“Really?” Norman looked at Birch with a look of surprise for some reason, his head turning quickly as his whole body moved in precise, fast movements. He was upset he had to cut the conversation short, and seemed very eager at the chance to meet up again later, but was already becoming deep in his own thoughts.  
“Sure! Now hurry up, I know you hate to keep people waiting.” Birch leaned forward to give the man a friendly hug. Norman’s body, which had tensed as soon as he had switched gears moments ago, relaxed at the touch, savoring it. Norman closed his eyes and breathed deeply, clearing his mind and focusing on the comfort of Birch’s reassuring grip, which engulfed Norman’s smaller body in its warm and soft frame. Norman held the breath in his chest, and then exhaled it out slowly through his nose. The two held their positions for a moment, and then the bigger man released Norman, who was noticeably more relaxed and focused at the same time.  
“Thanks,” Norman said, quickly turning to leave. With most people, Norman was not inclined to be overly physical. In fact, he had been called cold and uncaring by an ex when he was a teenager for not being physical enough in his affections. But Birch was the opposite, and for some reason Norman never minded it. In fact, it often helped calm him down. The gym leader trotted back over to his own yard, which had a bike propped up against the side of the house. It was Norman’s, and it was silver and kept in pristine condition. With 24 speeds, front and rear lights, and a stand to prop in his Pokénav to utilize its Bluetooth feature while biking, it was Norman’s preferred form of transport. Throwing one leg over the seat, Norman hopped onto the cushioned seat, but he paused, and spun his head around to face Birch once more, who was still standing in his own yard. “Oh, and, can you do something for me?”  
“Yeah, of course.”  
“If…if Brendan does stop by, can you ask him to see me before he leaves? I want to talk to him one more time.”  
“No problem!” Birch promised. And with that, Norman put on his helmet and fastened the buckle with a click, and began pedaling out of town.

* * *

Norman ended up having a busier day than expected. After his first challenger, he had a second, and after that battle, he had decided it was time to fix the minor damages on the outside of the building. His three gym trainers who were there that day offered to help, and the task was completed fairly quickly. Also the finances, which he thought were balanced, were showing small errors in the bookkeeping, and even after that, apparently a Pokémon got loose and needed to be pacified. Norman spent the afternoon putting fire after fire out, each time watching it grow later and later. Normally, the man liked getting absorbed into his work, but today he wanted to try to discuss things with Brendan again, and try to smooth the morning’s conversation over with his son. It was by no means the first, and most likely not the last argument the two would have, but for some reason it was just making Norman antsy and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Was it that Brendan seemed to be getting slowly sparser with communication? Was it jealousy that Professor Birch seemed to have a better relationship with his daughter than Norman did with Brendan? Norman hoped it wasn’t the latter, because that made him feel guilty. He wanted Birch to be happy, he didn’t want to be jealous over his friend’s situation. Norman was sure that Birch was having the same difficulty that he was having, since both men had their only children leaving the house on their own for the first time. Norman just had a bad habit of overanalyzing everything. Every bad discussion he had with Brendan, every piece of information Brendan didn’t tell him, it all made Norman worry that he was losing yet another relationship he had with people he cared about. And then there was Birch himself. Norman had only rekindled their friendship a few years ago. Sure, it seemed like everything was going swimmingly, but the normal-type gym leader had a habit of isolating himself and he was fully aware of it. While Birch was a kind and understanding friend, Norman worried that their relationship would suffer. He hoped it was just another case of stress and overthinking everything, but that still didn’t pacify Norman’s feelings.  
Thinking of Birch, Norman looked at the bag sitting on his desk. It had Birch’s lab coat inside, that Norman hadn’t had time to give him or even mention it during their conversation, and he had ended up bringing it with him to the gym without thinking. It was the entire point of his waving down his friend earlier, though Norman enjoyed just speaking with the man as well. At least it gave Norman a reason to see Professor Birch again. Birch had said to stop by after work if Norman wanted to, and Norman hoped he meant it. Norman was feeling tense and lonely, which had become an all too familiar feeling, and he could use the quiet socialization with his best friend. Glancing at the clock, the possibility of seeing Birch again helped him continue to push through and finish his chaotic work day.  
Eventually the hours passed, and morning became afternoon, and afternoon bled into evening. Norman had called his wife, telling her he wouldn’t be home for dinner due to work. She didn’t complain, she never did, but Norman still felt guilty leaving her alone again. But before too long, the work did end, and Norman closed the gym for the evening. Looking into the sky, Norman saw that the sun was getting ready to set before too much longer. Brendan had said that he wouldn’t be around for dinner, so he most likely had already left. Norman had asked Professor Birch to delay the boy so Norman could converse with him, but that was many hours ago, and most likely even if Brendan had agreed to wait, the offer would’ve already expired. But Brendan hadn’t shown up at the gym either, meaning maybe he hadn’t made his way in that direction from Littleroot yet. With that hope, Norman took off in a swift bike ride home.  
It didn’t take too long for Norman to make his way home. The towns of Petalburg, Oldale, and Littleroot weren’t too far apart. If you were to follow the main roads, it would be roughly 8-9 miles between Petalburg and Littleroot, passing through Oldale on the way. But Norman had been making the footpath commute for several years, and as such was aware of all the shortcuts through back roads and the small parts of the nearby parks that had paved walking paths that let Norman cut through them. All of these things taken into account, Norman could cut down the mileage to about 6-7. Norman was in fantastic shape, and as such was able to comfortably bike that distance in 40 minutes or so. The frequent trips were both a workout to ensure he stayed fit, and helped him travel places quickly due to the constant training. However, since the man was in a rush, he spent the entire ride pedaling vigorously and tirelessly, cutting his already good time down even more. It was very arduous and draining, and Norman was fairly soaked in sweat by the time he arrived at Littleroot’s entrance. Normally he would go straight into his house for a shower, but, hoping to catch his son, Norman instead went immediately to his neighbor’s house, propping his bike up on the siding of the building. He was greeted at the door by Professor Birch.  
“Hey Norman!” He said while standing in the doorway, looking at his sweaty and moderately panting friend. “Wow, you’re drenched. Are you okay?”  
“Is Brendan still here?” Norman asked, in between short breaths and leaning on the house for support. His satchel was draped across his shoulder and resting on his back, and his usual track suit tied around his waist by its sleeves. He looked inside at what small pieces of the entryway weren’t blocked from view by Professor Birch’s large frame.  
“I’m sorry, but he left hours ago.” Birch apologized hesitantly, looking behind him at his empty hallway. “But still, come inside, you must be tired.”  
Professor Birch moved aside, and gestured for the soaked gym leader to enter the house. Norman paused, unsurprised but still disappointed.  
“O-oh…alright…” Norman paused for a moment, but then sheepishly obliged the offer and stepped inside. Birch closed the door behind his friend and the two began making their way to the kitchen. It was a cozy little house, albeit minimally decorated. Norman had been in it many times the past several years, and knew the layout of the home by heart. He looked at the living room, which sat a decently sized paisley print couch, one that could pull out into a bed. On each side of the couch was a small end table, one of which had a brass lamp. On the other side of each small table were two moderately sized lounge chairs, one on each side of the room. One of them had a folding table in front of it and what looked like the remnants of a mostly finished TV dinner. The television was on, playing some show Norman didn’t recognize. Birch grabbed the remote sitting nearby and turned the television off before making his way down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Norman followed him.  
“I asked him to wait for you,” the Pokémon professor said, attempting to console his friend. “But he said he was in too much of a hurry. Do you want to try to call him on his Pokénav?”  
“That’s okay,” Norman answered dejectedly. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, his hand resting on the wooden dinner table. This room was painted light blue and had white tiled floors. Birch made his way over to the nearby pantry and sink, leaning on the wooden countertop that almost matched the color of the table. The sink had dishes from most likely breakfast and lunch inside, but none from the day before. “I didn’t have anything of too much importance to say to him, I just wanted to see him off and say a few things.”  
“I’m sure you’ll see him again before too long. Brendan is usually good at contacting you at least once or twice a week, right?” Birch reached into a nearby cabinet for a glass. “Do you want something to drink? You must be thirsty after the commute.”  
“I’d rather have a beer, honestly.” Norman responded flatly, and then was surprised at himself. He drank intermittently, but only really a few times a month on average, and not usually too much at one time. But the day had made him tired, and he was upset that he missed seeing his son off. And while Norman wasn’t always a man to help swallow his sorrows with the taste of alcohol, tonight felt like a good night to do so. “If that’s all right with you, that is.”  
“Sure, but drink this first. You have to be dehydrated after sweating so much, and beer only dehydrates you more.” Birch instructed, his back to Norman as he filled the glass in his hand with tap water. He walked over to Norman and placed it on the table.  
“Thanks,” Norman replied, grasping the cool glass and bringing it to his lips. The water felt incredibly refreshing on his lips and throat, which he hadn’t noticed were as dry as they were from the exertion and panting. The man chugged the drink quickly, feeling better as the liquid rushed down his esophagus, cooling his body from the inside.  
“No problem,” Birch said, moving to the refrigerator and taking two cans from inside it. He walked back to the table where Norman was standing, his cup already empty. Birch placed one in front of Norman, and then pulled back the chair on the opposite side of the table, taking a seat.  
“Sit down,” Birch continued, pressing on the tab of the can to crack it open, followed by the small fizz as the air rushed out of the container. “You don’t normally ask me to drink with you unless you have something to talk about, or you need to have a good time. So, which is it? You okay?”  
Norman seated himself in his chair, looking down at his beer, and then back up at Birch. Professor Birch was right, he did have a lot on his mind, but how much did Norman feel comfortable burdening him with? Norman hadn’t told his friend about his marriage problems, and had only sparingly mentioned that he was worried about his relationship with Brendan. Though Norman was sure Birch knew something was wrong with him lately, Norman was afraid of worrying his friend needlessly. And although he may not acknowledge it, the man was also afraid of being too vulnerable by opening up too much. Especially since Birch was also the subject of a lot of conflicting emotions Norman was currently fighting with.  
“It’s nothing,” Norman said dismissively, taking a sip of his beer.  
“Now you know I know you better than that,” Birch retorted, continuing to gently probe his guest. Norman gave him a tired gaze and sighed.  
“Yeah, you do know me,” Norman exhaled, too tired to keep up any front to his best friend, who only wanted to help. He took another swig of alcohol, collecting his thoughts as he tasted the sour liquid.  
“So why don’t you talk to me a little. You bottle things up so much, it’s not healthy. Everyone has to vent sometimes.”  
Norman looked hesitantly at the man sitting across from him. He paused, debating how much information he wanted to divulge. With one last gulp, he lowered his hand and sat the beverage down on the wooden table.  
“How much time do you have?” Norman asked.  
“As much time as you need.”

End of Chapter 02: Empty Nest Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally, Chapter 2! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a lot of issues come up in my life. It's all fine though, life is good. Stressful and busy, but good.  
> I also had a lot of debating over how I wanted this story to go, where exactly I wanted to take it, and, (maybe) most importantly, how graphic I wanted to get. This started off as an indulgent little piece based on things I was into and characters I was disappointed were never written about in fanfiction, to my knowledge. I always debated making this an actual series, but when you start off blowing your load (quite literally) how do you go from there? What balance of story and smut do you try to find? That took me a while to decide. For those of you that came for the porn, don't worry there will be more, and it will eventually get more explicit. If you want to fast forward to the porn and nothing else, I will always list things like that in the beginning of the chapter. But I also wanted to tell a story, which involves taking time to do chapters like this that are just lots of talking. I loved writing this though.
> 
> Birch is...slowly becoming reminiscent of an old friend of mine as I write. Which is weird for me, because I am not romantically interested in this friend. I sure love Professor Birch, though!
> 
> As for what continuity I am following, well, it's kinda an eclectic mix? Some from the games, some from the manga, some from the anime. Brendan being Norman's son is solely due to the fact that I am male, and when I played the games I played as a boy so Norman was Brendan's father in that case. Also, no Max because again, not in the games. I tend to refer heavier to the game continuity, but really it's just whatever I feel like writing it as.


	3. A Shoulder to Cry On

Returning to Your Roots  
Written by Fruit Punch  
A Pokémon Fanfiction featuring Professor Birch and Norman  
February 2016 – Present

Chapter 03: A Shoulder to Cry On  
Rating: G  
Warnings: None

“Until death do us part” is a flowery enough phrase when you think you love someone, when you imagine that you will, indeed, be with the other person until death comes for one or both of you. Preferably after a long, fulfilled life, death will arrive peacefully and gracefully in the night, making your sleep permanent and eternal, as assured and everlasting as your love for one another. The certainty of death didn’t seem as scary when you face it with the one you love. At least, that was how marriage was supposed to go, Norman thought. It was not something to rush into with halfhearted feelings or only out of a sense of convenience. Matrimony was a binding contract, in a legal and monetary sense, but more importantly, in an emotional aspect as well. Legal red tape and money could be mitigated, but emotions last forever, and have no recourse to fix the damage. To Norman, the phrase “until death do us part” now was more of a looming threat, of a sentence to remain in misery and emotional stagnation for the rest of his natural life, until the embrace of death finally freed him. But those feelings made Norman hate himself, because his wife had done nothing to deserve any contempt, and such harsh words were only finding her as a scapegoat, when the real person Norman was mad at was himself. Whether it was for straying away from his wife emotionally, or whether it was marrying her in the first place, Norman wasn’t sure. Neither answer sat well with him. But it created an unending cycle of self-loathing, which was only exacerbated each time by the previous iteration.  
Norman wanted to be upfront and tell Birch all of this, about how he hadn’t felt content in his marriage for years, for so long that he wondered if he ever had really been happy in the first place, or whether it was just convenient. He wanted to tell his friend how guilty he felt feeling this, and how he hated the fact that he used his job to hide from the problem. How he was afraid he was hurting both his wife and his son, yet he was too afraid of being hurt himself to change anything. He wanted to be told that he was wrong for feeling this way, to be assuaged and reassured that everything was fine. That he would wake up and realize he loved his wife. Maybe they just needed a romantic vacation or getaway to reignite the spark. After that, everything would feel as joyous as it had been the day he got married to his wonderful wife. But Norman knew that nothing of the sort would happen, and the miserable situation was his own fault. That even if the problem initially hadn’t been his doing, the stagnation and isolation he caused by doing nothing aggravated the decay of the already crumbling family unit. Had Norman even been happy on his wedding day? He couldn’t remember anymore. He knew he didn’t feel this sense of dread, the acute instinct that something was wrong. And Norman didn’t remember such self-loathing, or the constant fatigue that came with it. Was it really all the gym leader’s fault? And was there even any way of alleviating it without only making things worse? Norman was scared of the blame, and of the possibility that things would, in fact, not get better. And it was this fear that kept Norman from opening up and telling Professor Birch.  
Currently, Norman was distracting himself from the problem by discussing Brendan’s recent travels. His heavyset friend listened intently, providing moderate commentary, but eyeing Norman suspiciously, as if he knew that Norman was dodging a much more sensitive subject. Of course Birch knew, the man knew the inner workings of Norman’s mind better than almost anyone else. But for the moment Birch was playing along and not changing the subject, seemingly content in letting Norman lead the conversation.  
“And so Brendan did successfully beat Roxanne last week,” Norman explained as he tried to keep his mind on the stories of his son’s journey and progression as a trainer, which was a much easier subject for Norman. The man was normally brimming with pride over his son’s accomplishments. But everything tonight was said somewhat sheepishly as he looked into his alcohol. He was already on his second beer for the night, and Birch had brought out a bottle of bourbon that was currently sitting on the counter with two glasses for when they decided to switch to it. “But apparently there’s been a rockslide in the tunnel connecting Rustboro and Verdanturf, you know the old one?”  
“Yeah?” Birch replied attentively. “I had heard about that, but luckily nobody was hurt, right?”  
“Uh huh, and it happened a few days before Brendan got to Rustboro anyway, so he was fine. But that ruined his plans to travel immediately to Verdanturf.”  
“Why did he need to go specifically to Verdanturf? It’s mainly a rural town, though it does have Pokémon Contests there.” Birch sipped his beer, tilting it enough to almost empty the can.  
“That’s where Wally, you remember that boy I mentioned that stopped by the gym when Brendan tried to challenge me?”  
“Yeah,” Birch answered after pausing to think. “The one you helped catch his first Pokémon?”  
“Well, that was more Brendan than me, but yeah.” Norman said, clearing his throat. “He’s lived in Petalburg since before I took over the gym there, but he’s a little sickly. Nothing life threatening, just enough to effect his daily life.”  
“Okay.”  
“He moved away from Petalburg to Verdanturf,” Norman discussed, motioning his hands from one side of his to the other to iterate the change in living areas. “He has family there. They think it’ll be healthier for him to live in a smaller town. Less stress, less pollution, and his relatives have more free time to take care of him, I think.”  
“Oh, so Brendan was hoping to visit him in his new home?”  
“Exactly.”  
“That’s really nice of him,” Birch said with a smile. “Brendan is awfully considerate.”  
“I think they really bonded when they met,” Norman continued. “I know they exchanged PokéNav numbers and Brendan has kept in somewhat contact with him lately.”  
“Well I’m glad that Wally has something to look forward to in his move, then.”  
“Yeah,” Norman sighed. “I don’t think Wally had many friends in Petalburg. So I’m glad Brendan can help lift the boy’s spirits. He’s a good kid, just timid and hasn’t been exposed to a lot due to being sick. That’s why I wanted him to at least have a Pokémon as a friend when he moved.”  
“What Pokémon did he catch?”  
“A Ralts, I think? I’m not sure though.”  
“Oh wow,” Birch commented. “Those are a little rare around here. They’re really good companions though.”  
“Yep, so he should be fine. And Brendan will visit him eventually.”  
“How is Brendan getting there, then?”  
“I think he’s going to sail around Dewford and into Slateport, since Dewford has a gym.” Norman explained. “Mr. Briney offered to take him.”  
“Who?”  
“Mr. Briney,” Norman repeated. “He’s a retired sailor that lives right outside of Petalburg. Nice man, though a little eccentric at times.”  
“You know him?”  
“Enough to trust that he’ll be okay taking care of Brendan.” Normally, Norman wouldn’t want his son traveling such long distances, especially by boat. There was always an added level of danger once you took the element of solid land away. But Norman had been working hard to become acquainted with the idea of Brendan journeying progressively farther from home. It helped ease Norman’s fear when he found out that Brendan had been offered the trip by Mr. Briney, whom Norman knew. But it still worried him sometimes. “I’ve talked to him a handful of times over the past few years. He’s a reliable sailor, and I hope he teaches Brendan what he knows while they’re on their journey.”  
“If Brendan wants to, I’m sure he’ll pick it up quickly.” Professor Birch assured him. “Brendan is a hard worker, and an information sponge.”  
Norman and Birch continued talking about Brendan’s upcoming travels, until the conversation eventually slowed down. Norman continued nursing his beverage, until Birch finished his and proceeded to crush the empty can in his hands. Norman gulped down the rest of his beer exhaling loudly afterwards.  
“You want something else to drink?” Birch asked, getting up to grab the bottle of bourbon.  
“Sure,” Norman answered nonchalantly.  
“So,” Birch said with his back turned to Norman as he poured the drinks. “I assume you have more on your mind than Brendan going sailing.”  
Norman hesistated, and Birch turned around, a glass in each hand. Setting one down in front of Norman, Birch sized up his friend in a calm, yet slightly confrontational manner before sitting down across the table from him once again. “What’s really the problem?”  
“What?”  
“Norman, come on.” Birch insisted. “I’m just worried.”  
Norman’s heart raced in fear as Birch finally addressed the problem at hand. He had placated Norman long enough, but he knew that nothing more was able to be gained by dodging the question any more. And Norman knew it too. So here it was, the moment of truth. Norman couldn’t really complain, because this whole conversation was the gym leader’s idea in the first place, and his friend was only here to help. The nervous man took a deep breath and picked up his glass, the cold condensation reminding him that he was still here, that he had to finally verbalize his problems and face them.  
Taking a swig of bourbon, Norman collected his thoughts, trying to find the best way to tread into the potentially land mine-ridden path he was about to go down. He put down the glass and held it with both hands, occasionally using his right index finger to trace the edge of the cup. Norman looked up at Birch nervously, and then back down at his drink with a sigh.  
“What if I’m wrong?” Norman murmured sheepishly, his shoulders tensing in stronger increments as he finally uttered the words. Instantly he lowered his head into his drink, which he only raised a few inches off the table, still cupping it with both hands.  
“What?” Birch asked.  
“What if everything I’ve ever done up to this point is wrong?” Norman continued, with slightly more force. “How do I know I’m not making a terrible mistake until it’s too late?”  
“Norman, where is this coming from?” Birch pondered in worry, leaning forward over the table in a silent attempt to close the distance between himself and his clearly hurting friend.  
“I just…I don’t know…” Norman stammered, having difficulty finding the right words, or even knowing what exactly it was he even wanted to say. “It’s like…I…I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”  
“Norman.”  
“You loved your wife, right?” Norman blurted out, and then immediately regretted. He raised his head up for the first time in the past few minutes, fear and panic in his eyes as Birch looked at him with an expression that Norman couldn’t quite fully grasp, but seemed to be somewhere between confusion and pain.  
“I’m sorry,” Norman quickly replied, raising a hand up in apology. “I shouldn’t have asked that, that was incredibly rude. I just…it’s…”  
“Of course I did, Norman.” Birch finally answered, his voice firm but kind, and covered in a tone of sadness. “I’ll never stop loving her, either.”  
“I-I know,” Norman stumbled. “I’m so sorry. That was terrible of me. I never should’ve said anything like that, I had no right, I just…”  
“Norman.”  
“Of course you loved her,” Norman continued. “I never should’ve even implied that you didn’t. I’m so sorry, I meant no harm.”  
“Norman, it’s okay.”  
“I’m so, so sorry.” Norman persisted in panic, speaking faster and beginning to garble his words together. “You have every right to be mad, that was completely out of place for me to say. I’ll just…I’m sorry. I’m really, truly, entirely-”  
“Norman is this about you and your wife?” Professor Birch asked.  
“…what?” Norman froze, finally put into silence. He looked at his friend with fear and surprise in his eyes, as if Norman never really expected the conversation to reach this point, and was now unable to process what to do next.  
“Are you having problems at home? Is that what this is about?” Birch looked at the smaller man with a look of gentle concern, but also with a newfound understanding as he slowly began to piece together the small signs of Norman’s turmoil over the past few months, or even longer. The professor waited for Norman to respond, but Norman just grew redder in the face as the silence persisted, only accentuated by occasional panicked noises.  
“Is that why you’re never home anymore?” Professor Birch continued, feeling both a stronger worry as he realized the depth of the problem, but also an underlying emotion of comfort that at least now Birch knew exactly what it was that was plaguing his friend.  
“………yes…” Norman responded after what seemed like hours of silence to the fearful man, but in reality was no more than a handful of seconds.  
“How long has this been going on?”  
“I…I don’t even know…” Norman said, slowly able to find words and sentences. “I can’t even remember anymore. Sometimes…sometimes I wonder if I ever really was happy with my life…oh god, that’s such a terrible thing to say, she doesn’t deserve things like this being said about her…” Tears began to form in Norman’s eyes as the words finally came out, all the concerns that had kept him up for nights on end. And with it came all of the self-loathing, the hatred that he would even think something like this, let alone actually verbalize it.  
“Oh Norman…”  
“She’s so good to me,” Norman cried, his voice trembling as he attempted to put emphasis on each one of his words. “This isn’t her fault at all. She’s so, so good. Everything she does is so caring, and so understanding. She always goes along with anything I want or need, she’s such a good wife. She doesn’t deserve this.”  
“And knowing that only makes you feel worse for thinking it in the first place, doesn’t it?” Birch asked, understanding his friend well enough to finish the rest of the thought.  
Norman looked his best friend in the eye and the tears started pouring down his face. He nodded shakily as he dropped his head and wept, unable to speak again. Birch reached over to place his large hand gently on Norman’s as he sat there wordlessly, letting Norman expel as much emotion as necessary.  
“She doesn’t deserve this…” Norman repeated between sobs. “She’s so good to me…she deserves someone who…who can treat her better…give her what she wants. She needs…someone much better than I can ever be.”  
“But Norman,” Birch interjected. “You are a good person. Look how much this affects you. Clearly you care about her, even if you don’t love her the way you feel like you should. If you weren’t a good person, this wouldn’t be bothering you so much.”  
“I’m not,” Norman shook his head. “I’m really not. If I was, I wouldn’t bet letting this happen. I…I would’ve fixed this, I would’ve stopped it before it got this bad.”  
“Norman, Norman, no!” Birch cooed in an attempt to console the gym leader. “You can’t help the way you feel. Just like how you can’t stop hating yourself for feeling this way, you also can’t control the fact that you aren’t feeling what you think you should be for her.”  
Norman again couldn’t respond and continued sobbing, but his cries were slightly more restrained than they had been. Birch continued reassuring his friend that he was indeed a good person, albeit a complicated one, all the while tracing gentle, reassuring circles into Norman’s hand with his thumb.  
“You are good, Norman.” The heavier man persisted. “I need you to believe that. Even if you can’t convince yourself of it right now, I need you to try to think that way. Can you at least try that for me, Norman?”  
Norman raised his head to look at Birch, tears wetting his face and snot running from his nose. Hesitantly, Norman began to nod in agreement as he used his free hand to wipe his face with his sleeve.  
“Thank you, Norman.” Birch continued. The burly man then rose from his seat and walked around the table to the still quivering man and embraced him deeply. “Thank you for trying to do that. This is a very hard situation to be in, and I don’t know what to tell you to do. But I need you to keep trying, because it’s the only way anything can improve. So thank you, Norman.”  
Norman clung to his friend tightly and sobbed into his shirt, which smelled reassuringly like the Pokémon professor. Occasionally Norman would stammer out small words and phrases of apology, but Birch simply continued to hold his endearingly fragile colleague, his one arm draped over Norman’s shoulder as the other hand brushed lovingly through Norman’s hair. And there the two stayed like that for a while, inseparable as Norman unloaded his pent up agony and stress. It had felt like years since Norman had been this honest with himself, and the rush of emotion brought on an entire other wave of feelings. Fear, embarrassment, hatred, love, and a mortifying sense of helplessness. But another emotion eventually washed over the gym leader, a sense of relief, and of protection in his friend’s arms. For so long Norman had kept these feelings locked inside, petrified in anxiety over his problems. But he had finally told someone, and despite all his apprehension, the world had still not yet came crashing down on his head. Birch now knew the root cause of Norman’s problems, and the professor still accepted him. Sure, this conversation didn’t simply fix all the damage caused in Norman’s tense life, but the feeling of sharing his pain, of knowing that someone else was aware of the situation and had Norman’s best interest at heart was extremely comforting and, at least for the moment, made the upcoming problems in the near future seem much less daunting.  
Eventually Norman’s tears subsided and he continued resting his head on Professor Birch’s chest, which was now a sopping wet mess of a shirt. Knowing Norman made such a scene all over his friend’s torso was moderately humiliating, but Birch didn’t seem to mind. So Norman simply relished the moment, occasionally rubbing his face into the damp shirt that covered the large chest of man Norman cherished. He looked up at the brunette and smiled with a mix of thanks and embarrassment, dried tears staining his face. Norman didn’t know what he needed to do next in his life. Clearly, something had to be done with the situation with his wife. What that was, Norman didn’t know, and he didn’t feel like obsessing over it would solve anything. For once, Norman wanted to actually let his thoughts go for the evening and relax with his best friend after such a cathartic conversation.  
And so that’s what they did. After another somber and grounding conversation about the situation at hand, Norman and Birch decided to move their conversation into the living room and switching to a lighter topic. The men situated themselves on the large paisley couch, sitting the two glasses and the bottled of chilled liquor on the two end tables on each side of the piece of furniture. Birch leaned into a relaxed posture with his back against the cushion, his legs spread wide apart and feet sitting firmly on the floor, whereas Norman sat in a moderately more collected manner with his legs close together as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. Norman swirled the ice in his drink occasionally between sips as he alternated hands to hold the cold glass in, while Birch had one arm resting on the back of the couch behind where Norman sat as he sifted through television channels with the remote in his other hand. The two men talked and talked as they paid mild attention to the various drivel illuminating the television screen, the conversation being both meaningful yet about nothing at all. The important part was that they were together and enjoying themselves, and that’s what made the night significant.  
Currently on the television was an informative documentary about the Devon Corporation and its most recent developments. A spindly lab coated researcher was guiding the cameraman and female reporter through their laboratory, where they were documenting the newest Pokéball creations, as well as alluding to more to come.  
“So, what you’re telling me is the longer the battle goes on, the stronger the Timer Ball becomes?” The reporter on the news clarified for the audience, her face accented by a professional yet attractive blue bob cut. “But how does that work? How does the Pokéball know how long the battle has been in progress?”  
“Well, you see if you press this button here,” the scientist said, adjusting his glasses before motioning towards the Timer Ball on display. “At the start of the battle, the Timer Ball records how long the battle has been going on from the time you press it. So it’s imperative that if you plan on using a Timer Ball, you ready it as soon as the battle begins and then store it away as you fight. It’s really a great item to use when you encounter a Pokémon that is hard to defeat and specializes in stall tactics.”  
“But how does the Timer Ball register that there actually is a battle going on? Couldn’t you in theory press this button anytime and then just bring it out when you feel like using it?”  
“Well yes, you would think that.” The Devon employee answered. “However, the Timer Ball can recognize the pheromones given off by a Pokémon during a battle, and the button will not activate the timer unless it senses those chemicals. Originally this caused a problem in development where the Pokéball wouldn’t recognize the pheromone patterns of certain species of Pokémon. But after trial and error we found that by--”  
“Didn’t Brendan go to Devon lately?” Professor Birch asked, staring lazily at the television screen. “I feel like May told me he was involved with the testing of their new Pokéball.”  
“Yes, he is.” Norman clarified. “Actually, he met the president of the corporation too, and the man took such a liking to Brendan that he began giving him free merchandise if he would test it out first too. That’s how he got his new Pokénav model.”  
“Wow, that’s fantastic!” Birch exclaimed. “He might not be too concerned with something like that right now, but Mr. Stone is a really powerful man in the business world, and could really open some doors for Brendan in the future.”  
“Yeah,” Norman agreed, before sighing slightly. “I think Brendan is too young to really appreciate that right now and only views it as running small errands for him, but it gets Brendan access to new places and interesting gadgets before the general public and I know he enjoys that.”  
“Doesn’t Devon have a separate beta testing division though? I didn’t think that was open to the public.”  
“Normally it isn’t. But I think Mr. Stone really took a liking to Brendan. I’ve talked to him lately and he seems to almost view Brendan as a son.” Norman’s expression twitched as he finished the sentence. It wasn’t that he was upset that Brendan was making powerful allies, it was just that the concept of his son finding other parental figures outside of his family was something that gave Norman conflicting feelings. On one hand, it was nice that Brendan was doing well, and doing something he enjoyed. But the specific phrasing of like a son just hit home how is own relationship with Brendan wasn’t stellar. But Norman didn’t dwell on it either, because from what he had gathered from Brendan, his son was viewing the eccentric older man as just as much of a nuisance as he viewed Norman as. It was more of the same teenage boy sass, and at least it meant that Norman wasn’t being viewed as less than Mr. Stone. It seemed like a petty distinction to make, but it still put Norman more at ease.  
“Doesn’t Mr. Stone have a son of his own though?” Professor Birch asked.  
“I’m not really sure,” Norman pondered. “To be honest, I’ve never asked and he’s never mentioned anyone.”  
“I’m pretty sure I know of some sole heir to the Devon Corporation,” Birch continued, motioning towards Norman with his arm that was resting on the sofa. “I think he’s a little older than Brendan though, and is somewhat of an eccentric like his father, and a hermit. So people don’t see him much. I’ve heard that even his own father isn’t sure what he’s doing most of the time, and that’s why he doesn’t give this R&D to his son. ”  
Norman laughed. “I guess all parents have communication problems with their children to some degree.”  
“That’s true,” Birch chuckled and agreed. “It’s the one inevitable fate of parenthood that’ll never change no matter the era.”  
“Is…is that even true for you and May?” Norman hesitantly questioned, cautiously eyeing the professor out of his peripheral vision as he inquired. “You’ve always seemed to have such an open and strong relationship with her, at least as long as I’ve known.”  
Birch paused, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess,” he responded after a moment. “But we still have our moments. Nothing like full-fledged arguments and hurt feelings, but she’ll get annoyed that I don’t give her enough space, and sometimes she used to seem irritated when I couldn’t get along without her help in certain areas. I guess that’s why she calls me so often now that she’s not home as much, because I’ll always be her bumbling boob of a father.”  
“Really? She always seems so happy to help.”  
“Oh, for the most part she is,” the larger man clarified, taking another sip. “But everyone still wants time to be a kid, and time for themselves. May is a wonderful daughter, more than I ever deserved, but even her patience has limits.”  
“I guess that’s true,” Norman trailed off, comforted by the knowledge that even Professor Birch’s relationship with his daughter wasn’t completely picturesque and perfect.  
The night progressed calmly and quaintly as the two friends drifted from one topic to another as the television gave off its quiet background ambiance. The simple conversation felt good, as if it had been quite a while since Norman had such an amiable banter that was without a constant derogatory nagging internal monologue. His head hummed comfortably from the alcohol, and eventually his body started leaning closer towards his best friend. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, Norman wasn’t entirely sure. But at some point the conversation died down with a happy sigh, and Norman’s back slid on the material of the couch until he rested his head on Professor Birch’s shoulder. Both men were aware of the sudden physical contact, but neither seemed to react or mind. His mind foggy and relaxed, Norman lightly nuzzled his face against the broad shoulder, enveloped in Birch’s scent and warmth. He let out a deep sigh, his body feeling lighter than it had in longer than the gym leader cared to think about.  
“Thank you for this.” Norman whispered, his eyes shut securely as his consciousness drifted dangerously in and out of sleep, his thoughts focusing on the pleasant feelings of here and now. It wasn’t as if he had forgotten their earlier conversation, nor the implications that he would be faced with tomorrow morning. But the catharsis of the shared knowledge of it with his best friend who accepted him and was working to alleviate as much stress as possible gave Norman newfound reassurance that maybe he would find a way to fix the complications in his life. It probably wouldn’t be easy or clean, something had to be done. And at least he wasn’t alone.  
Norman’s mind was brought back to the present as he felt a strong hand laid on his worn frame. Birch wrapped his arm around the smaller man’s back and planted his hand on Norman’s head. His eyes opened in surprise, but he made no movement to resist the embrace. On the contrary, Norman let the weight of the arm push his head further into Birch’s body and onto his bosom.  
“You’re welcome,” Birch answered quietly.  
And it was there that Norman and Birch remained, leaning on one another as they faded into the night. Their breathing slowly became synchronized as Norman’s head raised and lowered to the movement of Birch’s heavy slow breath. Norman was fighting the urge to fall completely into slumber as he tried to remain conscious to relish as much of the moment as possible. The scents, the texture of the fabric of Professor Birch’s shirt, the warmth of his body, and the tempo of his relaxed heartbeat were all ingrained into Norman’s mind as the gym leader pondered how he was lucky enough to have such a friend. Norman rested on top of the same shirt he had been sobbing into earlier, now dried, feeling like no matter what, his friend would accept him. There would definitely be hardship and struggles, but that was an unavoidable part of life. But at least Norman could come to Birch with his problems, and know that he would be met with open arms and unconditional acceptance. And that was an incredibly liberating feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Uhhhh...happy one year anniversary of this story, I guess? (Which was almost a year of hiatus...)  
> I don't really have a good excuse for taking this long, especially after I finally decided to "make this an actual story" as I said when I posted chapter 2 forever ago. I have had a lot of changes in my life though. I got promoted twice at work, and then I moved and now I live away from home for the...second time which will hopefully be permanent. And then I quit my job and got a new one altogether closer to my apartment and I only started that a few weeks ago. I told myself "maybe now that my life is in order, I can finally get back around to writing!" (Yeah...but as much as I'd love to claim it'll go back to being a regular thing to write, I know myself well enough to promise you that it probably will still be sporadic.) And as much as I'd love to use all my life changes as a good excuse, I know it isn't really valid because I still found time to put in probably 100 hours into Skyrim after my roommate got the remastered version and I was reminded that I loved the game. And then I marathoned a lot of anime that I had been meaning to watch. The truth is I'm just lazy and procrastinate? But the most embarrassing thing is the majority of this chapter was actually finished this past summer, I just never wrote the last page or proofread and edited it.  
> But yeah, regardless, here you are. To those of you still reading, thanks for being patient with me. I know I'm an aggravating writer to follow, but reviews and comments are literally the things that keep me writing more, so thank you for caring. I'm sorry this isn't as smutty as you might've been hoping when I left off last chapter with the promise of a night alone with alcohol, but I...actually did plan on it getting sexual? It just changed? ALL I WANT IS MASTURBATION MATERIAL BUT INSTEAD I KEEP BEING A DRAMATIC ANGST-DRIVEN WORDY IDIOT. But still, I really enjoyed writing the casual dialogue this chapter, it's something I wasn't always that strong with when I was younger but nowadays I think I do a good job making it flow naturally.  
> Wow that was wordy. My explanations always are. Again, sorry, but I don't expect that to change either.


End file.
